


Promises

by ktbl



Series: Paper Rings [5]
Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games)
Genre: Bad Days, Diplomacy, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Meet the Family, Pregnancy, Sonya Blade Is Bad At Feelings, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27396745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktbl/pseuds/ktbl
Summary: Sonya made the mistake of promising to meet Johnny's family, and can't escape her commitment much longer. But when work comes calling, she's quick to jump out of the frying pan of a family brunch - and into the fire of interrealm diplomacy negotiations with Tanya. The day culminates in an argument and a decision she never thought she'd have to make.
Relationships: Sonya Blade & Tanya, Sonya Blade/Johnny Cage
Series: Paper Rings [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727047
Comments: 9
Kudos: 11





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> I think a lot of folks are stressed right now, so I pulled this out of WIP hibernation and put some work into it. Have some fluff and character development. <3

She kits up piece by piece; it’s a slower process than she’d like, but it’s new, awkward, and uncomfortable. Pants, shirt, all of it fits properly but not comfortably. It’s like she’s playing some stupid role in one of Johnny’s movies, pretending to be something she’s not. She rolls her shoulders, tugging at the shirt cuffs, lining them up. Her eyes go longingly to her uniform, hanging in the closet. She’d take wearing that over this nonsense in a heartbeat. But she’s made a promise and she won’t break it, no matter how miserable it makes her.

“Done donning your battle gear?” Johnny’s voice interrupts her thoughts. She turns and sees him leaning against the door, running his hands through his hair yet again. He’s almost bouncing to get out the door. He reminds her of a little kid; she might have been out of bed first, but he’s been dressed and ready to go for some time. She’s the reluctant teenager, wanting to crawl back into bed and never leave. But today is his day: he gets to introduce her to his family over a long-deferred brunch. Short of an Outworld invasion, she’ll be meeting the Carltons today, whether she wants to or not. The prospect of meeting more people makes her utterly miserable, a kind of nausea she thought she’d left behind after the first trimester.

“I feel like an idiot.” She smooths the shirt again, adjusts her cuffs, picks off an invisible piece of fluff from her shoulder.

“You don’t look like one. Looking good, babe. Almost as good as yours truly.” He steps behind her, running his hands around her hips and over the mound of her abdomen. She glances in the mirror and sighs with resignation. Tall and blonde and in fighting trim, except that she’s seven months pregnant and looks it. He’s Hollywood’s golden boy, slacks and sports jacket and a shirt she’s pretty sure he had custom made, and the damn sunglasses hang in the collar of his shirt. She shifts, still feeling awkward in the maternity clothes she’s finally wearing - loose pants and a ruched white cotton blouse. It draws attention to things she’d rather avoid, but it’s the best protection she can get from wandering eyes and grabby hands and gossiping mouths. The paparazzi will probably be all over them the minute they get off the base and down to LA, and her stomach roils.

“Not so bad yourself,” she allows, leaning back against his broad chest. She makes a muffled noise of annoyance as the Inhabitant rotates, a series of jabs and shifts that make her skin feel stretched and her body not quite big enough for what it’s supposed to contain. Johnny just grins, that stupid beaming smile that’s all bright teeth and perfect for a photo op and makes her insides melt. He moves slightly, preening, and smooths his hands over the mound of her pregnancy. It pushes up against his hands with enthusiastic vigor. 

She groans softly, fidgeting with the end of her braid. She tilts her head, kissing the side of his neck, and keeps one eye on them sidelong in the mirror. They really do look good together, even if she doesn’t want to admit it out loud.

“You look good. They’re gonna love you, babe. Maybe almost as much as I do.” He moves around her, touching his forehead to hers for a moment. He finds her mouth with his, planting a lingering kiss that she leans into, and then he breaks first with a muttered growl. “Gotta stop before we don’t make it there at all.”

“I am absolutely not opposed to that,” she says with a speed that surprises even her, and they both begin to laugh. He sounds confident; even she can tell how she sounds a little panicked. “I can just take a nap.”

“When we get back. But I was serious, before. I want you to meet the family, and if you cancel today, they will invade. And I know this is a Special Forces base and all, but it’s not equipped to handle my family.” He slings an arm over her shoulder, repositioning and looking at them in the mirror, posing for his own pleasure. 

“I just hate this kind of thing. How many times do you see me wear dress uniform and go to functions because it’s a choice? This isn’t my style, Johnny. It’s not how I work.” She tugs at the shirt, and glances at him in the mirror. “Right now, I’m the trophy being shown off. Like I’m the next item on your rich and famous checklist. If they’re your family, I’m sure you can find a way to get your achievement without me having to deal with all your family. I’m not sure I’d be a particularly good guest today, anyway. You go, I’ll stay back.” Her stomach twists again, and it’s either nervousness or the Inhabitant doing rolls. Neither improve her mood, and he seems to sense it. 

“This is important to me, Sonya. You’ve pushed this off twice now, this would be the third. I want you to meet them before the kid’s here. They want to meet you.” He lets his hands slide down her sides, resting on her hips. He meets her eyes in the mirror. “You’re coming to brunch.”

“Johnny, you can make my excuses, we can do this some other time.” She closes her eyes tightly for a moment, and then opens them again. He’s still staring at her, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, and he almost looks angry. She’s rarely ever seen that look. Cocky self-assurance, frustration, exaggerated self-deprecation, but rarely anger. 

“You’re coming to brunch. Short of an Outworld invasion, nothing is getting you out of this. And even then, you’re having some orange juice and overpriced stuff off the buffet before you go to pilot a drone or lob grenades from afar.” His fingers dig into her hips, holding her in place. “I’m asking you to go, I’ve asked you a couple of times, and you keep saying yes and then finding an excuse. You’ve never said no, you just keep dodging. I want you to just commit to the damn thing. You keep saying yes, I want it to mean yes.” The frustration in his voice is almost palpable. His mouth hardens and his eyes close briefly.

Her chest tightens and she turns, tucking her head into the side of his neck and breathing him in. Anything right now to avoid that disappointment on his expressive face, and the peculiar sensation of guilt as she realizes she does feel badly for putting it there. He’s supposed to be happy, not burdened by anything. She bites down on her lower lip, shifting her jaw as she thinks. Words and emotions have never been her thing, it’s always been tactics and logic. She needs to think of it as fulfilling her obligations - her duty, her responsibility. That makes it easier to stomach doing, even if she still hates the prospect.

“I do mean yes,” she says finally. “It’s just… hell, you’re a handful on your own, Johnny. A whole tribe of you? I need some stiff drinks for that, or some time out on the range. Neither’s a choice.” She turns away; she can’t even get comfortable tucked against him like this, not with the bump in the way. She turns and wrests herself out of his grasp, his fingers trying to hold onto her shirt and failing. Her eyes glance away from him and the mirror, pulling out her ponytail, and beginning to work the hair into a loose braid. “I said yes, and I meant it. I don’t break my promises.”

“You’re bending them pretty damn hard, though.” She hears the squeak of the mattress as he drops onto the edge of the bed. “Couple of hours, babe. How bad can it be?”

It is quite possibly the most awkward situation she could imagine: her child’s grandparents, aunt, uncle, cousins... all gathered in one of the fancier restaurants boasting a good brunch buffet. White linen tablecloths, prime rib, oysters, and all-you-can-drink mimosas - way out of her budget and her comfort zone. She’d been hoping for something a little more laid back; gingham check tablecloths, maybe. Something about it makes her think of the fancy dinners they’d have just before a risky mission: shit was always going down when they cracked out the good steaks. Nothing about this sets her at ease.

The Inhabitant kicks vigorously, and Sonya begins to smooth down her shirt before stopping herself. She can do it - she can do this. It’s been years since she’s had a family meal with actual blood kin, and there isn’t a manual for how to cope with it. She feels off-balance like she’s slipped her boots onto the wrong feet. Johnny’s in the midst of them all, grinning broadly and laughing, subsumed in hugs and throwing his arms over shoulders, even crouching down and ruffling his niece and nephew’s hair. He’s in the middle of the throng like he was born to it. Sonya forces the uncomfortable moment of shock and envy aside before steeling herself as faces, almost all of them bearing a resemblance to Johnny, turn towards her. 

She’s ready for this to be a nightmare, rapid-fire interrogations about her, but the introductions are surprisingly easy. Johnny walks back, grabs her hand, and tugs her towards him. His thumb runs along the inside of her palm as he squeezes her hand gently, just enough so she returns the gesture. “Sonya, my mom, dad, sister, her husband, the kids. Everyone, this is Sonya.” 

Girlfriend or lover or partner never even comes up. Not once. Nor does her rank, or her surname, or anything. She’s absorbed into the Carlton clan without a second glance, and she wonders how often he’s introduced people to his family that they’re so blasé about it. She’s probably yet another girlfriend, and the only reason they’re invested - if at all - is the fact that she’s pregnant. 

“I’m going to kill you,” she murmurs into Johnny’s ear, “and there won’t be enough left of you to find, let alone identify.” 

Johnny grins with unrepentant glee, and catches her shoulder with one hand. He spreads his hand widely, a little possessively. He’s got her back, and she shoots him a sideways glance. He arches a brow for a moment, winks, and squeezes her shoulder gently. She exhales slowly. Pretend it’s a promotion ceremony, a unit ball, something where she has to make it through without murdering anyone. Limit her offending them to minor things. They are his family, after all, and explaining to the Inhabitant why Mom killed Grandpa after his third misogynistic remark in as many minutes might be a little rough.

Then again, the kid might understand.

Johnny’s father is - well, she reminds herself through gritted teeth, she wants this kid to have at least one grandfather. Michael Call-Me-Mike Carlton is the kind of man who expects to be the patriarch of the family, and the almost disdainful way he treats Sonya makes her hackles rise. She catches the way Johnny’s shoulders shift back, the way he rolls his head on his neck like he’s ready to start swinging, and she brushes her fingertips across his shoulders, warding him off. She doesn’t want to wreck Johnny’s relationship with his family.

“So what do you do in the service, Sonya? Medical corps? Office administration?” Mike eyes her. “Supply management?”

Sonya loves her supply sergeant and doesn’t even want to think how the man does what he does - it’s as good as Outworld magic - but the idea that she does desk work makes her seethe. That’s what she’s been forced to do because of the pregnancy, but that’s not what she does. And the minute she’s allowed out in the field again, back on the range and back in the ring, she’s going to be. 

“Lieutenant Colonel in the Special Forces,” she replies evenly. “Combat operations. Tactics. I head the unit that deals with Outworld.” She gives a glossy LA smile, the one she knows he’ll understand, the fuck-you-I’m-just-being-polite look. His lips twist and she can see him nod fractionally, as if awarding a point. “So the Battle of New York, a lot of the other things… I was on the ground for those. Things that haven’t made even the general news outlets. We don’t broadcast all our combat operations.”

“But you’re stopping as soon as the baby’s born. You’ll be in the office.” He states it with a frustratingly smug expression, and she grits her teeth and resists the urge to stab him with her fork.

“No, I won’t be. I have a duty, and a job, and I swore an oath. I’m very good at what I do.” She keeps the press-on smile on her face, feeling her cheeks ache. “I’m on desk duty for now, and once I’m ready to resume full and active duty in my usual scope, I will.”

“Johnny, you can’t seriously be thinking of letting her.”

She wonders if this man would be treating her the same way if she’d been in uniform and not of a pair of slacks and a blouse. She tries to keep herself cool, unflappable. This will just prove her right - she should have stayed home - but she won’t lord it over Johnny now. She inhales slowly, holds the breath, and exhales again, digging her nails into her palms. The pain gives her something else to focus on in lieu of of the rising urge to leap across the table and choke the man.

“It’s her job,” Johnny says instead, and he says the words and sounds like he means them. “She doesn’t come on set and tell me what to do, so why would I try to tell her what to do for hers? Anyway, it’s not like she’s going anywhere any time soon. Speaking of set - did you hear about the changeups in the way they’re starting to handle some filming with the shoulder cams?”

Sonya drops one hand beneath the table to brush her fingers over Johnny’s thigh as he brings his father into a technical conversation about something she can’t even begin to follow. She’s not quite sure what the older man does, but he has strong feelings, and Johnny seems willing enough to go along with it and let him rip into something that isn’t Sonya.

Anna Carlton seems happy enough being a grandmother, wrangling the two youngest scions of the tribe and ensuring they don’t eat an entire dessert tray as their main meal (half of one, apparently, is just what grandma can get away with spoiling them with). She’s polite enough to Sonya, not painfully ingratiating, asking the right questions about her pregnancy not to pry but to establish a baseline.

“I was a nurse,” she explains with a wink. “Twenty years. Doctors think they know everything, but we know they don’t. We just let them think they do.” She lets her eyes flick to the two Carlton men, getting deep into an argument about points and residuals and things Sonya cannot be bothered to understand. “And I worked as a nurse on a lot of sets. Just letting them go is sometimes the best choice.”

“Explains why Johnny shuts up when we tell him something has to happen because medical says so,” Sonya snorts, and the older woman nods.

“Good to know he listens to someone since it was rarely ever me.” 

“So.” Rebecca - Becca, please, no one calls me Rebecca ever - looks to Sonya. “He’s talked a whole lot about you, but it’s Johnny, and we frankly don’t know how much to believe. He likes to exaggerate.”

“He does,” Sonya agrees, “but - it’s Johnny. Comes with the territory. That said, there’s clearance that none of you have. So you can ask questions, but I can’t promise I can answer them.” 

The questions are bland - military service, a few that edge towards questions about the Tournament, and about the Netherrealm War. Those she tries to avoid, steering conversation back towards innocuous topics. About Johnny, about Rebecca’s kids, about anything but what was it like?

“Hard,” she says when they push for something concrete, Becca and Anna and the kids writhing with curiosity. She rests her hands on her abdomen. “I’m glad it’s over. Busy making sure it doesn’t happen again. Things are… well, things are busy over there, and as long as it stays away from everything here, I’ll be happy.”

She is willing to talk about her skillset, trying to steer it towards the more demure - yes, she can fire a gun, yes, she has a pilot’s license and can pilot helicopters, no she’s never driven a tank, that’s not her thing. The kids are full of questions about martial arts, what she knows about fighting, how she was trained, and she’s willing to go as in-depth as they want about that. Sonya catches a look between Becca and Anna as if they’re silently agreeing on something, but Sonya doesn’t know the unspoken language of the Carltons. All she knows is she’s missing something. 

The Inhabitant is quiet throughout all of it, as if being surrounded by noise and chatter is just what it wanted, as if the crowd is soothing and familiar. Sonya’s skin crawls with the cheerful chaos; it’s nothing at all like the organized chaos of the base or a mission, where she can navigate those familiar rapids with ease. This is painfully, frustratingly _new_.

“Do you know?” 

“Hmm?” Sonya looks up, sees Johnny’s sister looking at her.

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“No.” She shrugs slightly, meeting Becca’s eyes. “Uncooperative - which I’ll blame on my side of the family - and military insurance only covers so much. No optional ultrasounds for that. We’ll find out when the baby’s here.” 

“Come on. I bet you in a heartbeat Johnny’d get you into a private place for the whole thing. Video, all of it. You should do it.” Becca suddenly has a bright look in her eyes and looks over at her kids. “We found out at regular appointments for both of them. I can’t imagine not knowing. I mean, names and everything…”

“We’re good, thanks. If we find out, we do. If not?” Sonya shrugs again. “It doesn’t change anything.” She brushes her fingers across her stomach idly, as if trying to smooth out the ruching of the blouse. “It’s a nice surprise, I think. Instead of the shit - stuff,” she corrects herself quickly, “we usually deal with.”

Becca opens her mouth, but Sonya’s attention jumps to the sudden ringing of her phone. If she’s ever been grateful for the ringtone that means it’s a call with the base’s prefix, it’s now. Her hand dives for the device, pulling it out and eyes flicking over the screen to confirm the call’s origins are what she suspects.

“Excuse me; I need to take this.” Sonya pushes away from the table, thumbing open the phone as she does. “Blade.”

“We need you on base immediately,” comes the voice on the other end. She recognizes it as her CO, even if the rest of the number is unfamiliar. She straightens subconsciously even though he can’t see her. Johnny turns, opening his mouth, but she holds up a finger to silence him. She steps further away from the table, phone pressed up to her ear.

“Sir?”

“An Outworld emissary has shown up, demanding to speak with someone. Specifically, you and you alone. Get your ass on base, Blade.”

“Copy. There as fast as the speed limit allows.”

“Faster. You get a ticket, I’ll pay for it. Move that ass.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” She closes her phone and looks apologetically to Johnny. “I’ve got to get back to the base.” Sonya glances at the table full of Carltons and kin. They all stare back at her expectantly, and she’s seen this curiosity before. Johnny’s face falls into a frown, and his shoulders slump for just a moment before they pull back up.

“Why, Outworld invasion?”

“Close enough.” Johnny tenses and nearly leaps to his feet, but she puts a hand on his shoulder. “ _Empress_ Mileena has sent an emissary to discuss things. Apparently, with me. Explicitly.” She wrinkles her nose. 

“Whoa.” Johnny shakes his head, spreading his hands and gesturing with wide motions. “No. You’re not going to see Mileena like that.” He doesn’t even make a quip about explicit, and she feels faintly worried about the fact that he hasn’t jumped for the innuendo or the joke. 

“Like this?” Sonya raises an eyebrow and hears Johnny’s sister make a soft quickly-hushed laugh. “Like what, able to still kick your,” she pauses and catches herself, conscious of the audience and her earlier gaffe, “butt six months pregnant? It’s not Mileena, it’s an emissary, and it’s on base. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m coming with you.” He starts to lever himself up out of the seat and stops halfway, reading something in her body language. His eyes darken, but he drops roughly back into his seat, elbow bumping the table. An overfull mimosa sloshes onto the table, and he swears as it spills down onto his slacks.

Sonya sighs, wordlessly handing him a napkin. He begins to try to soak up the champagne and juice. “No, you’re not. I won’t sign off on your authorization to get down that far into the base. It’s-“

“Not safe?” He raises an eyebrow and pokes at her stomach firmly. It pushes back at him because the Inhabitant _always_ does when it’s Johnny. He gives Sonya another look, jaw muscles tight and lips whit as he presses them together. She narrows her eyes and tilts her head and tries, very valiantly, to kill him with her mind.

She’s not Kenshi Takahashi, so it doesn’t work.

“Spend time with your family, Johnny. Work is work. Sooner I deal with this, the sooner I can be back.” Her fingers graze across his shoulder and she wars with herself for a moment about whether or not to invite him, to ask him to come, but she pushes the thought away. He needs his time with his family, and this is her responsibility. “I won’t go to Outworld without making sure you’re aware. I shouldn’t need to go at all.”

“You go to Outworld, I’m coming with.” He grabs her wrist tightly, circling it with his bigger hand, and looks into her eyes. “Swear to God, Sonya, you’re not leaving Earthrealm without me.”

The oddity of the conversation isn’t lost on her; neither is the way the conversation bubbling around them quiets as they discuss interdimensional politics over eggs Benedict and prime rib and gravlax. She sighs and gives the best peace offering she can muster.

“I’ll call you when I’m done.” She tugs her hand from his grasp and turns drill perfect on her heel as she walks away. 

His father’s voice is loud at her back, too loud to ignore. Man has the voice of a drill sergeant; she’ll give him that at least. “You’re just going to let her do that? Walk all over you? You shouldn’t let her disrespect you like that, son. You want to go, you go out there and go, and she’ll have to suck it up. Need to make sure she knows who’s in charge before that baby’s born.” Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if Mike Carlton had made sure to pitch it to carry to her ears.

She can feel her hands knotting up at her sides, but she keeps walking. She’s got better things to do than rip into some pasty-faced civilian, even if it is her lover’s father, her child’s grandfather. She deigns to slow her pace, just enough to hear Johnny’s answer.

“You don’t get to talk about her like that. Not now, not ever. It’s her job, and I trust her to make the right call. If she needed me, if she thought I could be useful, she’d have told me to get in the car and start driving.” His voice is threaded with the same kind of frustration she’s heard before when he’s been kept out of briefings. Frustrated, likely angry, but doing his best not go off about it. The old Johnny would have ripped into her, and probably his father, if he’d been rejected. He’s getting better, even if it’s difficult.

She keeps her driving under the speed limit - barely - and arrives at the base not too long after her CO’s call. Fucking irony that she woke up here and had to drive into the city for brunch, and now she’s back. Maybe she should have just stayed home and damn Johnny’s complaints. She has enough time to go to the armory and get her gauntlets, strapping them onto her forearms as she punches the elevator button and heads down as far as this shaft goes. She has to go through two retinal scans and another elevator ride, watching the security increase as she goes. The air gets blander, more recycled, and the air conditioning makes it almost too cool. Dressed in civvies, she feels uncomfortable and out of place - it doesn’t matter that she was called here off-duty. Her skin is crawling with discomfort when she finally makes it to the third and final retinal scan. The doors hiss open, allowing her access to the facilities that include the Outworld portal.

The soldier standing in the hall snaps a salute.

“What’s going on?”

“She says her name is Tanya,” the man answers. She glances briefly at his tag; someone she doesn’t recognize. Sonya swears fluidly for thirty long seconds. 

“Problem?”

“We’ve got a history,” Sonya says after a moment, and she looks inside the room. There are two more of her unit standing armed inside next to the door; another two stand outside it, and four more off to the side. They have canisters of liquid nitrogen equipped with hoses and sprayers, and each one is aiming at the doorway. “At least you’re taking her seriously. I’ll go in and see her.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” One trooper asks the question, and she narrows her eyes at him, tilting her head in disbelief.

“Is it safe? Look at me, and think long and hard about asking the Lieutenant Colonel who’s fought in a transdimensional war about asking if she thinks something’s safe.” Sonya watches his face, and she jerks her chin. “Don’t worry. She and I should be able to manage this without too much bloodshed.”

“With all due respect, ma’am-“

“Stop there and remember the due respect part. Doesn’t matter that I’m knocked up. Might actually get me out of this more intact than if I wasn’t.” Sonya squares her shoulders, looking at the door. “Sooner I get this over, the sooner I can go home. My fucking day off.” She rolls her eyes and pushes through to the smaller room with the Outworld Empress’ emissary.

Inside the room, the air is even drier and more recycled. Somehow it smells warm and spicy - Outworld scents close enough to cinnamon and coriander and citrus that Sonya has a moment of flashbacks to the tournaments. She feels faintly nauseous, It’s not the air, but the emissary, and Sonya’s heart pounds harder in her chest. Tanya - dark hair and golden garb and that honeyed mouth that hides a viper’s tongue. She’s a diplomat through and through, and Sonya tries to hide the way it makes her skin crawl. 

“Well, well. I never expected to see you in a state like this.” Tanya’s smile is predatory, all lush lips and bright teeth and acid sweetness.

“We all make choices we don’t expect to. Why are you here, Tanya?” Sonya pointedly doesn’t cross her arms over her chest. She makes a point of keeping them hanging loose at her sides and making sure the gauntlets are visible.

“I’d hoped for a warmer welcome.” She makes a moue of dismay, eyes sparkling beneath dark, smudged eyeliner. Sonya feels her skin prickle, and her heart begins to speed up. She adjusts her stance ever so slightly as Tanya blatantly looks her over. “I came with a message from Mileena Kahnum for you, but I’d hoped to spend a little more time with you. I think back fondly on our last… negotiation.”

“I don’t know what you think you’re implying, but be done with it.” Sonya feels brittle, ready to snap in a handful of different ways. “This was my day off. I don’t have time to play games.”

“And here I’d hoped maybe you had learned something. I’m here for some inter-realm diplomacy, and I had been hoping to give it a… personal touch.” Tanya leans back, one hand playing idly with the chunky gold necklace around her throat. She reminds Sonya of a leopard, all long limbs and languid movements, but always with a predator’s gleam in her eyes.

“Out with it.” The Inhabitant kicks vigorously, and Sonya lays a hand over her belly in an attempt to soothe it, fingers brushing absentminded circles. She scowls, annoyed at the Inhabitant for throwing her off her game. Normally she’d be in Tanya’s face, arguing, instead of having to play word games. Word games had never been her strength, but if she remembers correctly, Tanya had been an ambassador’s daughter, surrounded by court politics since childhood. Sonya’s preferred negotiation method would always be at gunpoint - or with at least a threat of physical violence. Pregnancy is not helping the situation.

“When are you due?” Curiosity threads through Tanya’s voice, and Sonya’s hackles rise even further at the personal question. There’s no reason for Tanya to know or care - or be curious unless it suits her purposes. Altruism and Outworld do not go together.

“None of your goddamned business.” The words trip off her tongue before she can restrain them.

“I’d guess two, maybe three months. I don’t know how long you Earthrealmers carry your children, but that would be close enough by Edenian standards. Whose is it? Is it that partner’s of yours, the one who was a revenant?” She presses her lips together in feigned contemplation. “Or maybe it’s somebody new. Let me think.”

Sonya desperately wants to put a series of energy blasts into the woman’s face. A bullet is an equally appealing alternative. Send her back to Mileena, the message clear as day: this is what we do to Outworlders who come to Earthrealm. But the message from Sonya’s command was equally clear: don’t start any wars. They’re still managing to clean up after the last one, and Quan Chi’s disappearance is concerning enough. No need to add Mileena to the mix.

“It’s not Jax’s. It’s Cage’s.” She has nothing to hide, forcing strength into her voice, cocky assurance. She made her choice, and she has no regrets. Tanya’s eyes go unerringly to Sonya’s bare hands.

“I’ve heard of him, but never met him, myself. Is he worth it as a lover? If he’s not, I’m sure Mileena Kahnum wouldn’t mind borrowing him. She’s always interested in fresh meat. And if he is, maybe he’ll entertain her for a time. He could be a fine show of interrealm diplomacy.” Tanya’s nose wrinkles slightly and her chest rises and falls in an exaggerated sigh. “What I’ve heard of him makes him think he’s not to my tastes. I certainly wouldn’t have expected him to be to yours.” As if they share anything in common. Sonya goes hot with anger at the insults to her and Johnny alike. Tanya continues blithely, feigning ignorance. “But I see you haven’t wedded him, so there’s hope yet.”

She has the urge to snap out something contrary just to make Tanya shut up but realizes it will only feed the Edenian more gossip. She shrugs, nonchalant. “What’s the message, Tanya? Otherwise, I’ll use you to send one of my own.”

“I would have thought bedding that jester would have made you more fun, not less.” The Edenian sighs again and traces a design on the cold metal of the table before looking up again. “As you will. The sooner I’m out of this abhorrent cesspit and back to somewhere civilized, the better. My message is this. Mileena Kahnum says if any of you Earthrealmers set foot into Outworld, she’ll declare war and have you all to fill the Koliseum, wave after wave, until it runs red as the Blood Sea. She is busy uniting Outworld and consolidating her power. Set foot in Outworld, and you will regret it.” 

“That’s about the same message I’d send you back with. Keep your shit to yourselves. We don’t want it. Earth has no interest in Outworld, as long as you keep to yourselves.” The Inhabitant rolls around and kicks, and Sonya absentmindedly lays a hand on her stomach in that place. A second kick follows moments later, as expected. She flicks her eyes back to Tanya. “That everything?”

“I envy you,” Tanya says as she rises slowly from the chair. “To have something so intimate, a living piece of the one you care so deeply for.”

“Who says I care about Cage?” Sonya raises an eyebrow, trying for a hint of disdain in her voice, but it’s harder to muster than she expected. It’s a lie, and she knows it, and from the amused look tugging at Taya’s lips, the emissary knows it too. “I said it was his. We’re not engaged - or married.” Sonya jerks her chin towards the room where the portal is. “And I’m sure if you wanted a little piece of Mileena to have and to hold, you’d be able to make some arrangements at the Flesh Pits.”

“But you’re still carrying his child, which means it holds value for you. So he does as well.” She smiles at Sonya with a vicious look that makes Sonya tighten her abdominal muscles against the incoming blow she knows is coming. “Congratulations are in order, and I’ll make sure that the Kahnum knows you’re expecting. I’m sure she’ll have quite the gift to send along.”

Tanya’s words make Sonya’s vision white out for a moment at her utter brazenness, the implications of what kind of gift the Tarkatan halfbreed would send along unsettling at best. Sonya clenches her jaw so tight it almost hurts. She walks towards Tanya and perches on the edge of the table. It’s an awkward movement, but she’s so close to the Edenian, into her personal space, that Tanya visibly recoils for a moment. She doesn’t sit back down, but holds her position next to the table. 

“If that portal opens up for anything but a white flag and a message of peace after you go through it, I’m going to bring the full force of Earthrealm to bear on your head and that of your Empress. It’s not a threat, Tanya, it’s a promise. I want nothing to do with Outworld. I don’t want your congratulations or your apologies or your bullshit.” Sonya leans in towards Tanya’s ear, so close she could lick it if she wanted to. She can see the pulse pounding in the other woman’s throat, the faint red flush beneath her golden skin. “My only regret is that I won’t be there to hear Mileena screech when she finds out you failed to get a backdoor, bedroom deal this time. Or to watch your face as you decide to tell her how you got the first deal and how I turned you down this time.”

Sonya leans back, savoring the tightening of Tanya’s face, the way her full lips press into thin pale lines, the angry gleam that brightens her eyes. Tanya reaches a hand up towards Sonya. Sonya shakes her head, tutting gently, a gauntleted hand smoothing over her belly again.

“I really, really wouldn’t even think about it. I’m pregnant and hormonal. Just about anything I do would be forgiven.”

“Not by Mileena Kahnum, it wouldn’t.” Tanya’s nimble hands spread out wide on the table, pressing down into it, knuckles going slightly white with pressure. Sonya raises an eyebrow and feels her own smirk tug at the corner of her mouth.

“So she values you that much?” Sonya watches Tanya’s face carefully, unsure how much Tanya had wanted to give away - and Tanya’s mouth tightens a little more, but not much. “I think we’re done, Tanya, unless you want to go back to Mileena in pieces. Let her know her message is heard, received, and the feeling is mutual.” 

_Just head home; I know you said you were tired. I’ll get someone to bring me up._

The text message sits accusingly on her phone when she gets back up high enough in the base to have cell service again. She debates on calling Johnny, but decides text is safer right now. Easier..

_Copy. All clear here. See you when you get in - no need to rush._

Sonya drives straight home, parking in the driveway. She takes several breaths to calm herself down. The less Johnny knows, the better; he’s not cut out for this, and the longer she can manage to keep him away from knowing exactly what’s going on in her world, the better. He doesn’t need to know the threats and who’s breathing down her neck. 

“Neither do you.” She pokes a finger into the mound of her belly. “The less you both know, the happier you’ll both be, and if only one of us has to be fucked up, it might as well be me. I’m mostly there already.” 

There’s no sign of Johnny when she walks in, and she’s painfully relieved. She spares a moment to feel guilty about being relieved, but then heads straight up the stairs to their bedroom, collapsing on the bed in a boneless exhausted heap. Brunch and Tanya took more out of her than she expected. Her eyelids are heavy and a nap comes easily; when she wakes again, it’s dark outside and she can hear faint noises downstairs. Vigilance - what Johnny calls paranoia - reigns supreme, and is the reason she slides on her gauntlets, even in her own house, before heading to investigate. 

Her footsteps are soft in the hall, and she peers around the corner and down into the living room. There’s Johnny on the couch, muttering to himself with a script spread open on his lap, and a bottle of beer in one hand. Ever since he defeated Shinnok, they’ve been sending scripts, trying to get him to commit to yet another project - or two or three - and he’s weighing his options, being picky about what he picks up for after the baby is born. She retreats, sliding the gauntlets off and putting them on her nightstand, before heading down the stairs with no attempts at stealth or guile.

“Everything okay, gorgeous? Save the world without me?” He sounds a little sour, put out. He’s half-dressed like usual, she notes wryly; his shirt was gone probably as soon as he hit the doorway. The thought has just enough time to cross her mind beforeshe sees the shirt thrown over the railing on the stairs. Point to her.

“Mileena sent Tanya to say keep out of Outworld. Not like we were planning on anything else.” She heads straight for the couch and collapses on it, stretching her legs out and closing her eyes again. He moves, and she feels him lift up her calves and tuck himself beneath. She feels his hands grab her feet and can’t hold back a moan of ecstasy as he runs his thumbs hard up the center of her left foot. He knows just how to get her pliable.

“A little sad that I missed it. I keep hearing about her but haven’t laid eyes on her. She as hot as everyone says?”

“Really?” Sonya cracks open an eye. “You’re asking me if she’s attractive?” 

“You have good taste. You’re whatever-ing with me, right?” He winks, grinning broadly, and she can’t decide if she wants to kiss him or smack the smug look off his face. Both options are appealing. 

“Can it.” She closes her eyes again, the better to avoid temptation. “She’s Mileena’s… whatever. Girlfriend. Fuck buddy. I don’t know. I don’t even want to think about the shit Tanya’s into if she’s hot and bothered about all those teeth.” 

“Hey, babe, don’t kink shame. Just because you don’t want to get into all those sharp, pointy…” Johnny trails off. “Yeah, you know, maybe she wouldn’t be my type after all.”

“I think it’s more that I’m her type, and you’re not.” She can’t keep all the smugness from her voice, and cracks her eyes open to look at him through her lashes. “Save you the shocking disappointment of being rejected.” 

There is a moment of stunned silence, and his hands stop moving on her feet. 

“Wait, are you saying you think she’s a lesbian? Because I’m down with that, if you-“

“Johnny, just stop talking.” She jabs him with her heel. “Sorry I had to blow out of there, but it was necessary.”

“You were missed,” he says after a few moments. “By me, at least. And the kids, who are all wild about the idea of Uncle Johnny’s girlfriend having access to grenades and tanks and wanting more stories about oni and demons and everything. Can’t say I liked having my dad tear into me about not being much of a man if I let my pregnant girlfriend blow me off for work, though. Not exactly the highlight of my day.”

“It’s my job, Johnny.” She opens her eyes again, barely, and he still looks like he’s sucked on a lime. She sighs and slides her legs off his lap, and drags herself over to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I’m not quitting the service.”

“Not asking you to quit,” he grumbles, folding the script up and tossing it onto the coffee table. It slides and wobbles at the edge, but doesn’t fall. “Just not ditch me in the middle of the family brunch.” He slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close so that the lines of their bodies touch, shoulder to hip and thigh to knee. “Cut me a little slack next time. Maybe drag me outside so you can crush my soul in private instead of in front of everyone I care about?”

“Like there’s such a thing as private in LA.” She rolls her eyes and tries to keep her voice from rising. “Do I need to clear everything with you? It’s my job; it’s my career. I know what I’m doing. I don’t try to dictate how you run your movies, how you deliver lines, and run fight scenes. Just because you ran ops with me…” She groans and trails off. “I don’t ask to come on set and offer advice about how you’re running things.”

“Yeah, but it’s not my life and that of my kid that I’m risking if I walked onto a set tomorrow.” Johnny shifts, no longer quite touching, turning his body towards her. Sonya lifts up her head, forcing herself to keep a neutral expression. She bites down hard on her tongue to keep from interrupting and just lets him continue, even as she feels herself warm with anger. “I go on set and the worst that happens is I get the shit kicked out of me by accident or break something. You go to work and someone from Outworld shows up, and they might send you home in a body bag. I’ll get the two guys at the door if I’m lucky because I’m not actually your next of kin.”

“They’d show up because of the baby,” she points out.

“Doesn’t make it better. It’s your life, yeah. But it’s our kid’s life right now too. And it all affects me. I can’t dictate your life, but damn it, when do I get a say?” Johnny points a finger at her, grinding the words out. “You could have died in there, both of you, if Tanya pulled some bullshit. Or what if it wasn’t her, and it was some crazy cannibal Tarkatan? This isn’t just you. This is an us, Sonya. _We_. Because even if you walked out the door right now - or you kicked me out back down to the condo - there’s still a _we_ here. So when do I get to make some calls, too?”

“You get a say when there’s a ring on it,” Sonya snaps, and the words are almost out of her mouth before she can realize it. She can’t suck the words back in, and feels the blood drain from her face.

“Then let’s do it. Let’s file for the damn license and get married.” Johnny latches onto the idea like a terrier with a rat. “Rules in California say it’s three months from filing for the license to use it, and I don’t think there’s a waiting period. We can go down and file in the morning. Pretty sure we can get an officiant, and be married by the weekend. Unless you do want the big dress and fancy wedding, in which case we can just sit here and be engaged until we can do the big thing you want. Or we can do a little private civil thing now and the big one after the kiddo’s here.” 

“Johnny, you’ve got to be kidding.” Her throat is dry and it’s hard to breathe, the way his eyes are pinning her to the couch. “I’m - get married? We’ve talked about it…”

“No, we haven’t. I said I’m willing and you ran out and we pretty much haven’t talked about it since. I’ve got the ring upstairs, and you know it.” He raises both eyebrows, almost daring her, as he drops off the couch and down onto one knee. “Lieutenant Colonel Sonya A. Blade, whose middle name I still don’t know, hottest woman on the planet, mother of my child, will you marry me?”

She wants to think about it, wants to weigh the pros and cons, wants to make him work for it. Today has been an absolute mess, but he’s been part of all of it, from the brunch to being something Tanya taunted her about. And even here, now, he’s been winding her up about her choices and her life. _No_ is on the tip of her tongue, because she loves him - even if she might not really have said it yet - but marriage is a hell of a lot. That’s a hell of a commitment, that’s responsibility and duty and a mess of legal implications that make her heart pound erratically. Adrenaline kicks in and she tries to decide if Jax would mind if she showed up on his doorstep tonight in a wild panic. He’d back her if she said no; he’d put Cage into the ground for her, no questions asked.

“Yes,” she says instead, the word crawling almost silently out of her mouth. “Yes,” she says again, louder, liking the way it tastes on her tongue, and the fact that he looks like she’s just stunned him with a blow to the head. It’s almost the same look as when she said she was pregnant, blue eyes gone startlingly wide, mouth half-open. “I’m not saying it a third time.”

“Are you serious, Sonya? I can’t - if you’re fucking with me…” He stops, reaching for her left hand, seizing it firmly in his own. “After the day I’ve had, I can’t handle this if you’re dicking around.”

“After the day _you’ve_ had?” She lets out a slightly manic laugh. “Don’t get me started, Johnny. After the day I’ve had, a marriage proposal is the… hell, I don’t know if it’s the cherry on top or the nail in the coffin.” She licks her dry lips, and he stands up, pulling her up with him. He doesn’t let go of her hand, grabbing it almost bonebreakingly tight. He takes the stairs two at a time in his enthusiasm. She can barely manage to keep up with his speed.

He stops in their bedroom in front of his dresser. He pulls open the drawer he keeps all his belts in - a drawer he knows she’ll never touch of her own free will - and tries to fumble through it one-handed. Maybe he’s afraid if he takes his hand off hers, she’ll take back what she said. She’s not as good as he is with body language, but even she can see the tension in his shoulders and the taut muscles in his neck, and the less than precise movements he’s making. 

He pulls out a little velvet bag, and it’s only as he fights to open it one-handed that he lets go of her. There’s another reason he was gripping her hand, apparently: his are trembling ever so slightly as he shakes the bag over his palm. A ring falls out into his hand. It’s not the ring she recognized or expected. He’d shown her a plain gold band months ago, back when she’d rocked his world with her pregnancy announcement. 

“That’s not the ring I thought you meant.” She can see it clearly in his palm: gold, set with a brilliant diamond and flanked by smaller ones, and it is big and bold and probably the entire paycheck from his last movie, all so perfectly Johnny that it makes her heart jump into her throat. 

“Yeah, well, I got bored and went shopping. I wanted to be ready, because trust me, babe…” His voice catches, and she sticks out her hand, wiggling her left ring finger. Maybe some of that wiggle is whole-body jitters, because even the baby starts to roll and twist, picking up on her nervousness. Johnny holds the ring carefully between two fingers. He almost drops it as he tries to slide on her hand, and she tries to make it easier for him, but her hand doesn’t want to keep still either. Johnny manages to get the ring down over her knuckles, and he closes her fingers down against her palm.

“I’d ask if we could keep this to ourselves, but a rock like this is as good as screaming it through the base PA system.” She surprises herself with the control in her voice, a marked contrast to the thundering panicked heartbeat in her ears.

“Think they’d let me?” He sounds like he’s actively considering it, and she chokes off a laugh, kissing him again on the corner of his mouth. 

“Try it and I’ll kill you.”

“Bring it.” He leans down and kisses her, long and slow like they have all the time in the world. She tries to pour all of her feelings into it, all ones she’s shit at saying, and hopes he gets the idea. When they come up for air his face is shining with a glow she hasn’t seen before. He should look like the cat that caught the canary, smiling with whiskers full of feathers, but he doesn’t. It isn’t the bright and gleaming Hollywood golden boy look, but a richer, more genuine kind of satisfaction that goes deeper than the surface. His fingers close on her hips, and he turns them to look into the mirror. They both look exhausted, but there’s a glow that wasn’t there when they started the day, and the weight and constriction of the ring on her finger is new and unusual but not as bad as she had been afraid of.

“So. Gotta say…” He catches her attention, brushing her mussed braid over one shoulder and kissing the nape of her neck. “Only one way you’d look better, babe.”

“And how is that?” She gives him a look, the _I-just-dare-you-to-say-it_ look, and he cannot ever turn down a challenge. His eyes have a lascivious gleam.

“Wearing only the ring.”

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE 11/11: There's now a Thing! I made a Thing!
> 
> [Behold the Mortal Kombat Fandom Dreamwidth account for us to nerd in, brainstorm, share fic ideas/recs, and maybe do some community fandom stuff!](https://mortal-kombat.dreamwidth.org/)


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